Unbroken 2

Thirty-Six

Hunter

Every couple weeks, Hunter swung by the trailer park on his own. He parked his bike and took the path to his mom’s trailer.

Like clockwork, his head snapped to attention when he walked past Skye’s home, and like normal, there her mother was, talking shit to a neighbour. Sometimes she waved hello to him, but those times occurred when Kurt wasn’t present.

Today, Kurt was by her side on the front porch; their eyes met as Hunter walked past. Hunter was wearing his patch, his hair was in disarray, an unlit cigarette lazily curled between his lips; he looked every bit the man Kurt didn’t want Skye around.

This fuck hurt Skye, and to this day, Hunter didn’t know just what the pussy said to drive her away.

“I heard a whisper that Skye’s old man burned your place down,”Roy had said to him once. “That was just a birdy that told another birdy what they heard. Kurt’s a fucking talker, apparently, he isn’t the type that shuts the fuck up. It pisses me off to no end that Kayla could have been in danger. Want us to take it further? She’s your mom, and while I want Kurt for myself, I’m giving you the power to decide.”

Hunter hadn’t decided, and after all this time, he had kept it at the back of his mind. An unresolved matter that didn’t gnaw at him like it should have.

And it really should have.

But Hunter was taking on too much at the club now.

Kurt would only torment him in the dead of night when he had nothing but his thoughts. And being away from Skye, he found that he was drinking himself to sleep so he wouldn’t think at all.

“Kurt.” The name fell from his lips in a challenging tone. It was an acknowledgement. An,I’m here, you’re still on my radar, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.

Maddie stiffened next to her husband, peering at him with wide eyes. Kurt didn’t say anything. Cheeky fucker. Hunter’s lips bunched up in a light smirk as he resumed walking, shaking his head to himself. He had to give it to Kurt. Fucker was terrified of the Warlords, but he had an impressive set of balls on him.

The humidity wasn’t as bad now that summer was coming to an end. Which meant Hunter’s mother wasn’t roasting in her room. He’d set her up with an air conditioner in her room long before the heat had set in, but his mother never turned it on; she said Onyx liked it off, which bothered Hunter because she was doing that fucking thing again. His mother, whether she subconsciously knew it or not, always took the harder path. In everything. Even Roy offered to take her into his home, make her his, but she refused.

Hunter had someone come around to maintain her place. The small lawn was done, the garden beside the front porch watered and in full bloom. It made Hunter feel good to see it every time he came up to the door and swung it open.

“Ma,” he called out, stepping in. “I’m here.”

She called out from her bedroom. “I missed you.”

He kicked off his boots and walked down the small corridor, passing the open concept kitchen and living room. He turned down another short corridor, saw that her door was ajar, and pushed it open. She was curled in bed, Onyx was in her lap, and she was reading instead of watching television, which was a first.

Kayla was already staring at him with a small smile on her thin lips as he walked in. He popped the unlit smoke out of his mouth and circled it around his fingers as he approached her and took her head into his hands, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Pissed, Onyx dove off her lap, landing on the floor around his feet. He ignored the jealous little shit, asking, “How you doing, Ma?”

She patted his arms with her thin, little hands. “I’m good, baby. Where’ve you been?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, taking a seat in the armchair facing the bed. “I was here two Saturdays ago.”

“That’s too many Saturdays, Hunt,” she replied, closing her book. Her dark eyes studied him, taking him in slowly. “You’re wearing their marking, I see.”

He couldn’t tell if she was impressed or not. “I earned this patch.”

“What did they make you do toearnit?”

“Nothing much.”

She pressed her lips together tightly, giving him a dry look. “You know, when Roy murdered your father in that field and had you there to clean up the mess with him, I asked him to put you in a better place.” She shook her head, frowning. “I said nothing about you becoming one of them.”

He spun the cigarette between his fingers and shrugged. “It was a good thing, and I asked for it.”

“You were thirteen—”

“I knew what Roy was. I knew what it meant.” He shrugged again, like this conversation was nothing more than a conversation in passing. “Anyway, it’s done.”

And anyway, he happened to kiss Skye that very night for the first time.